


What Could You Possibly Know About This Kind Of Stuff?

by Obsessedshipper



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dom/sub, Eventual Smut, M/M, PHLINT!!!!!, Slow Build, The whole gang will eventually join
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-07-24 04:34:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7493973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obsessedshipper/pseuds/Obsessedshipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson retired from field missions until Clint Barton AKA Hawkeye needs to be captured. Once he signs on to SHIELD, Phil once again becomes a handler and falls in love with the sweetness in Clint's heart. </p><p>Clint's been a hurt sub for so long, he doesn't know how to be a good one. So when his handler suggests a friends with benefits kind of thing, he thinks it can't hurt, right? RIGHT?!</p><p>Read this. It's better than my summary, I swear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! Tell me what you think of this by leaving comments or kudos! All are appreciated. Thank you for reading!!! I hope you enjoy it.

“Sir?” Coulson asked as he stepped into the Director’s office, smoothing his tie in a reflexive motion. Usually he knew what was going in Nick Fury’s head, but this time he had no idea what was about to happen. Once the elder motioned for him to take a seat, he sat in one of the intentionally uncomfortable chairs in the office- usually reserved for those who had disobeyed orders.

“I have a new mission for you,” Fury began and held up a hand when Phil opened his mouth to interrupt him. His mouth quietly closed. “I know, we agreed on no more missions a few months ago, but I need you. This guy has somehow managed to evade capture- sent Hill and Sitwell to the hospital last time.”

“You’re talking about Hawkeye.” Phil stated. He had heard the rumors. Supposedly, the boy had run away to the circus as a young boy and learned to be the most accurate long distance shooter in the world. He’d love to go up against him at the S.H.I.E.L.D. range.

“You’ve always had a way with the broken ones, Phil. Take this on for me,” Nick slid the file across his desk, his one eye trained on Phil’s face. Sighing, he opened the document and his eyes widened a fraction- the only sign that he liked what he saw. “Included in there is the note he sent back with Hill and Sitwell.”

Coulson dragged his eyes away from the photo of Hawk- no, Clint Barton, he corrected himself and flipped to the note. Written in a scrawl that spoke of not writing much, the note was rather amusing:

To the Senor or Senora who is in charge of these agents,  
You’re welcome for not breaking their shooting arms. Stop sending rookies. If you want me, come and get me. Please tell me that’s not the best you can do. 

I’ll be waiting,  
Hawkeye

Smirking up at Fury, Phil nodded his ascent. “I’ll take him.” Taking the folder of information, he walked out of the room, heading to his own office to look over the file and maybe stare at the piercing eyes of a beautiful stranger in a photograph. 

 

 

“I need a drink.” Clint sat down at the bar down the street from his rundown apartment on the edge of the warehouse district- perfect place to hide and practice his archery skills.

“What would you like, darlin’?” The muscular man at the bar winked at him, making him drink.

“Surprise me.” Licking his lips sensuously, his eyes traveled up and down the bartender’s body suggestively. Whatever it took to get free drinks, he was totally behind. Besides, the guy was totally not his type! The man, his name tag read Jon, handed him a cosmo- which really, just because he was gay did not mean he enjoyed girly drinks! But he still sipped the drink, thankful for the free alcohol. “Thanks, babe.” He turned to survey the crowd tonight.

Eyes took in everything in sight- the usual dimness, grinding on the dancefloor, the woman with only one earring, the band that had a silently crying drummer, the blonde in the corner trying to make eyes at him, but what truly drew his attention was the middle aged man in the corner booth- the best place to be if he wanted to remain discreet. Balding head, slight wrinkles starting to show, a designer suit and shiny black shoes. Those blue eyes though, that was what caught him- they held too much knowledge to be at a place like this. Their gaze held for a moment before he broke it, cursing low under his breath.

Quickly swallowing the drink, he walked onto the dancefloor, letting the writhing mass of bodies cover him up as he moved towards the back entrance of the bar. A surge of adrenaline went through him, he knew the other man would follow. How? He didn’t know why. There could easily be a team waiting in the back to come pick him up, but he knew that this man wouldn’t do that to him. He wouldn’t deny the chase he so craved. 

 

Staring into those brown eyes of Barton’s made the moment last for what felt like eternity. Once the younger took off, Coulson grinned and followed. Ah, he thought to himself, this is what he has been missing as he sat behind that desk at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Maybe he would have to rethink retiring from missions. But there was time later to think about that. Now, it was time to win.

Going through the back door, he could see a dark figure climbing at the top of a gate. “Stop!” he called out, but he didn’t want him to. This was the most Phil had felt alive in a long time. Hearing laughter, he couldn’t help but grin.

“I thought you guys had given up on me.” Clint commented as he dropped down from the top of the gate and took off in another direction. Coulson followed over the obstacle, running after him with surprising ease for a man of his age. 

“S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t give up easily.” He called out as he followed him up the fire escape. Coulson knew that once they were on the roof, Clint would have the upper hand.

“And how about you?” Barton asked, surprising him and almost causing him to stumble.

“I get what I want.” Phil admitted, coming to the top of the roof with Clint standing on the other side. Finally, he got a full look at his smooth skin, wicked glint in his chocolate brown eyes, wide smile, and long limbs. In his hands, he held a crossbow and arrows. “You gonna make me shoot you, Barton?”

“You should walk away before I put an arrow in your shoulder. That’ll keep you out of commission for a few weeks. Even more if I go for your right one.” Clint smirked, dropping all of the arrows at his feet except for one. “This is all I need to do real damage.”

“You’ve never fatally injured an agent before. In fact, you went out of your way to make sure you broke the arm that would affect them the least. Seems to me like you give a damn.” Coulson shrugged, pretending to be casual. “Why don’t you just let me bring you in and we can sit down and have negotiations? If you decide not to join, we can at least help you out. It’ll be all up to you.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” Clint sneered, throwing the arrow in the air above him before catching it and repeating the gesture.

“Then shoot me.” Phil held out his hands, showing off the shoulder holster that held a pistol. “I bet I’ll hit you anyway.” Clint’s eyes narrowed at the challenge.

“You asked for it.” He hissed. With a quick movement, the arrow was strung in the bow, releasing and aiming straight for Coulson’s left shoulder- he was right, he did give a damn and he didn’t want to hurt the man. Expecting it, Phil had moved slightly, letting the arrow graze him as his own left hand reached for his pistol, shooting and hitting Hawkeye in the thigh. It certainly was enough to make walking difficult, but not fatal.

Clint hissed as pain exploded in his leg. “Oh you asshole!” he cursed, glaring at the elder. “You shot me!” Chuckling Coulson checked the rip in his suit and the scratch that was bleeding down his arm.

“You shot me too.” He grinned and stepped close to the wounded man, knowing that he would have trouble moving away. “I’m just faster than you expected.” Phil smirked. “Now are you going to come willingly?”

“I’ll never come willingly.” Clint shook his head, moving away from him, but his arm was immediately encased in a vise grip to keep him immobile.

“Oh, Clint. Why must you make everything so hard?” Phil tsked, shaking his head. “We’ll talk when you wake up.”

“Wake up- wha?” Clint’s train of thought was cut off when a sharp needle broke his skin. A liquid was pushed into his bloodstream, immediately making him feel light headed. He was quickly unconscious, a sack of potatoes for Phil to hold onto. Slowly, he eased them down to the ground, being careful of Clint’s injury. Taking out his cell phone, he dialed the team on hold and waited for them to be picked up by the chopper.

 

“What did you do to Barton?” Nick came into Phil’s office a few hours after he had dropped the archer off at medical and gone back to his office to fill out paperwork. He didn’t need medical- a quick washing and change of suits and he was ready for whatever was necessary.

“I may have shot him.” Coulson winced, expecting to hear about how he was not supposed to shoot one of their most valued assets.

“Well he’s down in medical screaming for the, and I quote, ‘fucking man who brought me here’ while using an IV pole as a weapon to keep the nurses away.” Fury’s eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Go and save him.”

“Yes sir,” Phil sighed and stood, fixing his tie as he fast walked to the medical bay. He had heard of people freaking out in medical, but using the IV pole as a weapon? That was new, even for him. 

He found the room in medical quickly, hearing crashes and screaming of attendees. One of the nurses, Melissa, ran to him. “You have to get him to settle down! He’s going to reopen his wound.” She explained frantically. Nodding, he stepped into the room. 

Taking in the scene, he had to keep a smile from showing on his face. The younger man had damn near destroyed the room, all of the hospital personnel had fled except for the doctor and two security guards with syringes trying to get close to him. “Leave. I’ll deal with him.” His eyes flicked to the doctor and the other men, waiting until they left. Phil closed the door behind them and locked it, turning to see Clint. 

Barton was still standing on the bed, IV pole in his hand, ready to use as a weapon if needed, brown eyes slightly glazed, fresh blood running from his forearm where the IV had been pulled out, but thankfully none on his gunshot wound yet. “Clint.” Coulson spoke in a clear, firm voice, waiting until his eyes refocused on him. “Drop the IV pole and get down from there.”

Clint blinked a few times before doing as was asked, stepping down from the bed with grace that he shouldn’t have, as wounded as he was. “Sit.” The next command came and he sat on the edge of the bed. Phil pulled over a chair, sitting down in front of him. “I heard you’ve been asking for me.” That got him a soft snort of amusement. He didn’t say anything else, just waited until Clint was ready.

“I don’t like hospitals.” The archer said softly. “I don’t want to be here. I want my clothes and my weapons.”

“We can do that.” Phil nodded and he felt bad for the pain he put Clint through on accident. The relief on his face was evident. “First, we need the doctor to check your wound and bandage where you pulled out the IV.” Clint made a face that managed to be annoying yet surprisingly adorable. “I won’t leave again, okay?”

“Alright.” He agreed, begrudgingly. “Let’s get this over with.”

“That’s the spirit!” Phil graced him with a rare smile and patted his thigh before standing. “I’m just going to grab the doctor.” He went to the door and unlocked it with a schnick, calling for Candace, the doctor who was in charge. “I just need you to bandage his arm and check his wound, then I’m taking him with me.”

“That’s not a wise idea. He’s unstable.” Candace murmured softly, but Clint was still able to hear her. He already hated the woman. 

“He’s perfectly fine. You just frightened him, and he had every right to be scared. He’s my charge and I won’t let anything happen to him. I suggest you watch your mouth.” Coulson shut her up, and Clint already liked the man more than anyone else he had met in the past ten years, maybe his whole life. No one else had stood up for him like that! And he didn’t even know his name!

The two came into the room. This time, Coulson took a seat next to Clint on the hospital bed and the doctor took the seat in front of him. “May I see your arm?” Candace asked, putting out a hand. After a quick look to the agent next to him for reassurance, he extended his arm. The doctor cleaned it up with alcohol, which burned like a bitch!, before bandaging it up. The stitches hadn’t been pulled on, making him let out a sigh of relief.

After the doctor left, Phil went to a dresser off to the side, pulling out what Clint had been wearing with his bow and arrows. Stripping off the hospital gown, Barton began to dress. Coulson turned his back to give him privacy, and to prevent himself from seeing too much and never being able to erase that gorgeous body from his mind. God, he was sexy enough with clothes on!

Once Clint was ready, the two of them walked up to Coulson’s office. “Nice.” He commented distractedly. There was the desk, a comfy chair behind it, two chairs in front of it, a coffee table, coffee machine station, a snuggly looking couch and a bookcase shoved into the corner.

“Thanks. I’m Phil Coulson, by the way.” Phil commented dryly. “Do you want to start contract negotiations?” he asked, taking the comfy seat behind the desk. The other two looked rather uncomfortable to Clint, so instead, he walked to the couch, sinking into the cushions with a soft moan. Phil let out a choked noise at the sound before covering it up with a cough. 

“Sure. I only have a few demands.” Clint gave him a winning smile, slowly blinking his eyes at him. 

“This is negotiations, not demands.” Phil reminded him as well as himself. “What were you thinking?”

“First of all, I have the right to deny any and all missions that you would like me to be a part of. Secondly, I would prefer to work on my own, but that is not a deal breaker. Thirdly, and this is a deal breaker, if I have to work on a team, then you need to be a part of it.” Clint finished his list with a smile.

“I’m not a handler anymore, Clint.” Phil sighed softly. “I’m the assistant director of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Then why did you come for me and not one of your stupid henchmen like last time?” Clint questioned, looking furious at being denied.

“You’re a special case.” Phil shrugged. “We didn’t think we could get you without a maximum amount of manpower that we couldn’t afford at the moment.”

“You’re my handler, or I walk, Coulson.” Clint shrugged and turned over on the couch. “Go talk to your bossy man. I’m going to take a nap.” Phil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache. Honestly, he wanted to go into the field with Clint, but he knew what it would lead to- and death certainly was not one of the concerns. Sighing, he left for Fury’s room, not sure whether to fight for being Clint’s handler or not. 

Phil entered the room and his boss didn’t even look up from his computer screen. “Is our problem taken care of?” 

“Yes, sir.” Coulson nodded and cleared his throat, but before he could speak, his boss interrupted him.

“Sign these.” He slid a file of papers across his desk. Opening up the folder, he saw Form 598T- the one that would reinstate him back in the field and the one under that would assign him as Barton’s handler. Fury’s eyes were trained on him when he looked up in surprise. “He needs you. And you need him. It’s as simple as that.”

“I don’t need him.” Phil protested, albeit weakly even to himself.

“Don’t lie to me or yourself. He’s what you need to get you out of this damn slump. I never knew why you wanted to retire from missions to begin with! You need to get out there again- in more ways than one.” Fury huffed at him.

“Are you encouraging me to start dating a coworker?” Smirking a little at his friend, he sat down and signed the paperwork.

“I’m encouraging you to go and get what makes you happy, Cheese.” Fury stood and clapped his shoulder before taking the paperwork. “I’ll get this filed with HR. Take your boy home with you- get a feel for him in a casual setting. You guys will be living together anyway.” Clint was a special case- he would be able to pass all of the tests with ease, they both knew it, but rules were that as a newbie you couldn’t live off of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters unless you were with someone they approved of, such as their handler. Thankfully, Phil had a three bedroom apartment and this wouldn’t be a problem. He thanked his lucky stars that this was one of the days the maid worked so everything would be nice and clean for when they came home.

“Thanks, Nick.” Phil smiled and headed back into his office, the softest of smiles gracing his face.

 

Originally, Clint had pretended to go to sleep so that Phil could go talk to his boss. He couldn’t sleep in new places unless he was with someone that he trusted. Or at least that’s what he thought until he fell asleep on Agent Coulson’s couch.

When he awoke, he jerked quickly to an upright position, before groaning at the pain that went through his leg. “Fuck!” he cursed, falling back on the couch. Phil’s face immediately appeared above him, face etched with worry for him.

“You shouldn’t sit up so fast. Do you need a pain pill?” He asked softly. Clint took a moment to slowly sit up this time, still wincing at the tugging it caused on his healing wound.

“I’m fine.” Waving off Phil’s concerns, he shook his head. “How long was I out?”

“Long enough for me to become your official handler. Congratulations.” Phil moved over to his desk and sat down behind it. Was that merriment he saw dancing in those blue eyes? Clint thought so. There was something about Phil that was so sexy, yet safe, that just drove him wild in a way he didn’t quite understand. Barton grinned at the news.

“Awesome! So is there a cafeteria in this place or something? I’m starving.” His stomach rumbled to emphasize his point. Coulson laughed softly, standing and going to the door with his briefcase. Clint’s stomach silently flip flopped at the noise.

“Come on. I was thinking Chinese tonight.” He walked out, waiting for Clint to follow. “You’ll be staying with me for a while until S.H.I.E.L.D. grants you high enough clearance and the benefits that come with it. Tomorrow, I can take you out to get whatever you left at the warehouse, if you want.” Clint shrugged.

“There wasn’t much there. Only clothes and some knickknacks.” He played with his hands as they walked, fidgeting slightly as nerves went through him. “I don’t need to get them. I will just need to replace the clothes.”

“You can sign the contract once we get home and by tomorrow you’ll have enough money to buy as many clothes as you want.” Phil promised with a smile. 

“Thank you, uh, sir?” Clint said the term in a question, unsure of what to call the man. 

“Save that for around other agents or in the field. When we are alone, it’s just Phil and Clint, okay?” He asked the younger man as they stepped outside of the nondescript S.H.I.E.L.D. building.

“That sounds really good.” Barton breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Don’t worry. I’m going to walk you through everything you need to know.” Phil squashed his worries with two sentences, making his grin widen as they walked to the Chinese place nearby. The silence wasn’t tense, it was companionable as they were both in their own heads and comfortable with one another. 

The two got Garlic Noodles to split, General Tso’s for Clint, and Sweet and Sour Chicken for Phil. Once they arrived back to the apartment, Clint followed Phil’s lead and took off his shoes at the front door. There was a coat rack there that Phil put his suit jacket to hang on. The apartment was large and certainly nicer than anywhere else Clint had stayed before.

There was a living room to the right, tastefully decorated with two recliners and a couch with end tables and a large television the center of attention. He assumed that one of the doors was either a storage place or a bathroom. To the left was a dining room table to sit eight people and beyond that was the shiny stainless steel appliances of a high end kitchen. Dutifully, he followed Phil into the kitchen where they started to unload the bags of food.

“Grab some forks from over there.” Phil pointed to a drawer and Clint opened it to find the forks. Handing one to Phil and taking one for himself, he saw that their portions had already been doled out. Trailing behind the other man, Phil led him into the living room to sit and eat. “I hate eating at the dining table when there are so few people.” He shrugged by way of explanation and sat in the recliner. Clint took the opposite one and they both began to eat.

Once their appetite was mostly sated, conversation began to flow easily- about Phil moving around as a kid due to a father in the military, Clint’s adopted family and living in the circus for a few years where he met interesting characters. He had just finished laughing with Phil about a story that included the Bearded Woman fighting the Sword Swallower when he realized that this was the first time he had met someone and had such an instant connection with them. Even the sad parts of his life didn’t seem so bad when sitting near Phil Coulson.

“Ah! While I still remember!” Phil stood and grabbed his suitcase, opening it and handing a bunch of papers to him. “Sign these and it’ll be official.” He produced a pen from his pocket and handed it to him. 

Clint grinned and signed the papers without looking at it, returning it to a frowning Phil. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

“No. I’m just wondering why you didn’t read it before signing it. You should never sign something you don’t read first, Clint.” Phil tilted his head, not disappointed but maybe a little confused.

“I, uh, I trust you not to screw me over.” He shrugged but realized Phil was still waiting for a real answer. “I’m not good with reading and writing. That letter I sent with the other two agents took me half an hour to write.” Understanding dawned on his now handler’s face.

“We have tutors for that now, and medication if you want to take it.” He broached the subject softly, but Clint was shaking his head before he finished.

“The medicine makes me too jumpy and I’ve never been good with tutors.” Clint shrugged. “I’m just a broken case. It’s okay. I’ve survived so far.”

“I’ll help you when we are off of missions. We can type our mission reports together.” Phil told him, holding up his hand to silence the interruption. “I know I don’t need to do it, but it will at least save me from having to do another bunch of paperwork because I have free time and Fury is an asshole.” At Clint’s laugh, the serious moment dissolved. 

It must have been two oclock by the time they were ready to go to bed. It felt like they needed to talk about everything they missed in each other’s lives while apart. Phil showed Clint to his blue themed room before bringing him to his own forest green one in case he needed anything. Both of them went almost straight to sleep, smiles on their faces as they each thought of the other.


	2. Chapter 2

Phil woke at seven in the morning on Saturday. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have work- his body always woke him up early. After relieving himself in the en suite, he slid on his black framed glasses that he wore at home before stumbling into the kitchen. Starting the coffee maker, he began to whip up breakfast. It was easy enough to use some already made pancake batter to make them pancakes and he even started to cook some bacon. While he had a moment in between preparation for breakfast, he went to Clint’s room.

The door was cracked open slightly so he pushed it open, panic hitting him when he saw the sheets rumpled, but no body inside. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he took out his cell phone from his sweatpants, intending to call Fury, when he heard a voice behind him. “What’s up, bossy man?” Phil whirled around, surprise evident on his face. No one had snuck up on him in a long time.

Clint was dressed in head to toe black, a tight long sleeved shirt, and work out leggings that clung to his muscles with gym shorts on top of that and sneakers on his feet. “Where were you? Robbing a bank?” Phil’s sarcasm came out as a product of worry over the other, but to his relief, Clint just laughed.

“I went out the fire escape to the roof- practiced some shooting and did some running.” He shrugged before refocusing his gaze on Coulson’s face. “And you wear glasses.”

“I give my eyes a break from the contacts when I’m not at work or in the field.” Phil self-consciously adjusted the frames. 

“I like them.” It slipped out of Clint’s lips before he was able to stop himself. There was something about this man that seemed so powerful in his suit, that seeing him in his hipster glasses, tshirt, and sweatpants, made him appear so vulnerable and… sexy. Fuck it, he was totally attracted to his handler. Too bad that Phil would never understand the kind of things he was into. 

“Thanks.” Phil smiled and nodded at him before stepping away from his doorframe, heading back into the kitchen. “Go and shower, Barton. Breakfast will be ready by the time you come out.” Clint nodded and sent him one last grin before ducking into his room and closing the door. 

Phil sighed, sagging a little against the wall. He needed to stop these feelings for his agent before he began to fall in love with him. Alright, maybe he was already starting to, but he didn’t want to admit that to himself. He didn’t want to admit that he silently vowed to himself to wear his glasses more often if Clint liked them so much. Shit like that would just make their working relationship harder. Besides, Phil was into things that most people would never want in a relationship.

Shaking his head, he pushed away from the wall and went to the kitchen, finishing up breakfast. He poured two cups of coffee, doctoring his how he liked it and leaving out the milk and sugar for whatever Clint wanted. As he was placing the pancakes and bacon on the breakfast bar, Clint walked out. Eyes went immediately and stayed there. Clint’s hair was still slightly damp, sticking up in a million directions. He was wearing the same jeans as yesterday and was pulling an old army shirt of Phil’s that he had given him the night before to wear. The Dom in Phil growled out a loud “Mine” in his mind. Tearing his eyes away, he gestured to the coffee. “I wasn’t sure how you took your coffee.”

“Thanks,” Clint smiled at him and grabbed the sugar. Honestly, Phil was about to take away the sugar for him by the time he was done. Stirring it in with a spoon and raising it to his lips when he was done, Clint let out a sinful moan at the taste. “God, I can’t tell you the last time I had a decent cup of coffee.”

“Well whenever you need one, feel free to use it or the one in my office.” Phil had a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips at giving him such pleasure from something as simple as a cup of coffee. “Let’s eat this up so we can head out shopping.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” Clint saluted him before sitting down at the bar and joining Phil in devouring the feast of food in front of them. And well, if a part of Phil’s body twitched at those three words with interest, no one else knew that. 

 

By the time they got to the mall, Clint was ready to maul his boss. Once they had finished eating, he had insisted on cleaning up since Phil cooked. When Phil came out of the bedroom dressed in jeans and a Star Wars tshirt, the glasses still perched on his nose, he knew that this was the real Phil Coulson that no one else got to see. The suit was the badass, serious one, and the sweatpants were definitely the sweet Phil, but this had to be his favorite version because it was REAL.

They left the apartment and Clint was introduced to Lola- that was Phil’s car. It made him laugh, but it was just another piece to the puzzle of his handler. Clint stayed a step or two behind Phil as they walked through the mall, slightly timid in such a huge group, but mostly just wanting to stare at Phil’s ass in those jeans as he moved. “Suits first or casual clothes?”

“I need a suit?” The question brought Clint out of his fantasies with a whine. “Why would I need a suit?”

“Dates and corporate events. You only need one or two. When you’re in the field, everything will be provided for you so you don’t have to worry about that.” Phil explained, steering him into a high end suit store. “Come on. This is where I get my suits too.”

“I don’t want a suit.” Clint continued to whine but followed Phil into the store. They were soon greeted by an Italian man who apparently spoke very little English, but Phil was able to speak the foreign language with ease. At one point he was shocked to see Phil blush, before shaking his head at the elder man. He would have to ask Phil about that later.

“Let him take some measurements. Step up on that pedestal.” Phil pointed and Clint went.

With a saucy wink, he grinned wickedly at his handler. “Really know how to treat a guy right, huh Coulson? Already got me on a pedestal.” He teased.

“I was stuck between the pedestal and a pair of handcuffs for a while.” Phil smirked when Clint’s mouth dropped open to gape at his words. “Let Antonio do his work.” He nodded at the man and sat down on one of the couches that occupied the store. Checking his work emails, he answered a few about emails and whatnot as he watched Clint getting measured from the corner of his eyes. Eventually, Antonio pushed a suit into his hands and he watched Clint disappear into the changing room.

“Coulson! I do not like this!” Clint called out. Chuckling, Phil tucked his phone back in his jeans pocket and stood from the couch. “This is so not me! Can’t I put in my contract that I don’t need to wear suits or something?”

“You already signed it.” Coulson laughed louder before settling down. “Come on. I’m sure some girl will appreciate it.”

“The guys I date are only interested in how it looks crumbled on the floor.” Clint corrected, making Phil blink in surprise. Did that mean Clint was gay?

“Show me. I promise not to laugh.” Phil pushed the thoughts from his head for now and decided to talk about it later. 

“You promise?” Clint’s head stuck out from behind the curtain, making Phil purse his lips together in an attempt not to laugh. 

“Scout’s Honor.” He held up his three middle fingers in the sign. Clint rolled his eyes, albeit fondly before stepping out of the dressing room. Phil just stared for a moment, taking in the sight. The suit was made of an almost metallic silver material, clinging to Clint’s body perfectly. It molded around him, making him appear taller than he was. The deep purple button up underneath the shirt, did wonderful things to his complexion, making him look like he was glowing. “Holy fuck, Clint.”

Blushing cutely, Clint turned to look at himself in the mirror. “You don’t think it’s too tight? I mean, this is so not me. I’m a jeans and tshirt kind of guy, Coulson. This makes me feel uncomfortable.” He fidgeted as he looked at his handler for his opinion.

“It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.” Coulson murmured, eyes continuing to sweep up and down his body. “You won’t have to wear it often, but it’ll be good to have. We’ll pick up a few dress shirt so you can cycle through them.” Clint nodded and went into the dressing room to change into his normal clothes.

Phil let out a long breath. Goddamn, Clint had looked FINE in that suit. It really was a testament to his self-control that he was able to keep from jumping him. The way he looked in that damn suit would forever be seared in his memory. Shaking his head to try and clear it, he found a blue and green shirt for Clint as well. 

Clint had never seen such a hunger in a man’s eyes as he did when Coulson looked at him in that suit. But it had to be a trick of the light or something, right? There was no way that he could actually feel that way about him. Him- the ex-carnie, the whore, the mouthy submissive. Coming out of the changing room, holding the clothes, he went to Coulson who was standing at the check-out counter.

“Got you some more shirts. Here is your debit card.” Phil took it out of his pocket and handed it to him. “There’s about two hundred thousand in your account right now.” At Clint’s shocked expression, he grinned. “Danger pay is great when you work for us and the signing bonus, of course.”

“That’s crazy.” Clint murmured, still finding it hard to believe as he paid for the clothes and took the bags after signing the receipt. He was thankful for the money, but it still boggled his mind.

“Let’s get you some normal clothes, Clint.” Phil started walking towards another store and Barton trailed behind, following after him with a small, content smile on his lips. 

 

Phil was convinced that he must have been a saint in a past life. He was somehow able to survive Clint changing from outfit to outfit. The worst part? Clint didn’t even realize how good he looked in the clothing. Dear Lord, the sales girl kept hitting on him and Phil had almost growled out his possession of the boy.

Thankfully, all of the shopping was done and now they were able to grab some food. Finally. He needed a distraction from the perfect man in front of him. Getting food from a stand at the mall, they found seats and sat down across from each other. “How are you feeling? I know this is a big change.”

“It’s hard, but good. It almost makes me wonder why I made you guys chase me in the first place.” Clint smiled sheepishly as he ate. “But I’m glad you were the one to catch me, even if you did shoot me.”  
“How’s it healing?” Coulson asked. He had forgotten about it in all of their conversations. His agent still moved with such grace even hurt that it was hard to remember that he was injured. 

“It’s fine.” Clint shrugged off his worry. 

“I’ll check it later when we get home.” Phil told him decisively, leaving no room for him to argue. Clint was surprisingly okay with taking orders from him. “So.” He cleared his throat. “When you said guys earlier… that means you’re…?” He trailed off.

“Gay as a leprechaun shitting out rainbows? Oh yes.” Clint laughed before turning to him. “Wait, that’s okay, right? There’s no rule against that?”

“It is the 21st century, Clint.” Coulson smiled, the corner of his eyes wrinkling. “There’s no discrimination at S.H.I.E.L.D. and you’ll especially get none from me- Captain of Team Bisexual.” Clint burst out laughing at his admittance.

“Good to know.” He wiped his eyes when he was finished laughing, Coulson continuing to watch him fondly. “Well, what else do we have to do today?”

“Nothing I can think of.” Coulson shrugged. “I have some questions for you and I’m sure you have some questions for me, but that can wait till we are back home.”

“Well, I’m ready if you are.” Clint stood and threw out both of their trash, smiling at Phil’s nod of thanks. “Let’s get the personal shit over with at home.”

“Sounds good.” Phil agreed and they picked up the bags, heading for the place they now both referred to as home. 

 

Entering the apartment, Clint took his bags and went to his room, dropping them off to be taken care of later. Coming back into the main living space, he found Coulson in the kitchen. “That one is yours.” Coulson pointed at the purple mug before taking his own blue one into the living room. 

Barton sipped from it and smiled when it had the perfect amount of sugar in it. “Observant man.” He teased as he sat down across from Phil in the other recliner.

“I just added what I thought was too much, then kept adding to it.” Phil’s lips quirked up in a smirk at his agent as he sipped his own. “You want to go first or me?” Clint gestured for him to begin and he sighed softly. “Alright. Any weaknesses?”

“I’m partially deaf.” Clint shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “About sixty percent in one ear and twenty in the other. I’ve never worn hearing aids though- I couldn’t afford them. Most of the time, I can hear fine, but if grenades and guns become involved, it might be a problem.”

Coulson nodded, mentally noting in his mind to purchase a pair of hearing aids for him. “Any enemies that we should know about?” Clint tensed at the phrase, fingers clenching on the arm chair.

“There’s one.” He pursed his lips to keep himself from spilling the entire story. 

“Need a name, Clint.” Phil stared at him. For a moment it was tense as neither of them broke their gaze. 

“I knew him by Ruler, but his real name is Nicolai Reznykov.” Clint spoke softly.

“The one who’s using his BDSM clubs to for human trafficking?” Phil blinked with surprise. “How on earth did you get involved with shit like that?”

Clint took his tone as an attack, chin raising in a sign of defiance. “I went to his club as a submissive who wanted to play and he took an interest in me after watching me in a few scenes.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Phil needed to ignore the fact that Clint was into BDSM and a submissive otherwise he would explode in his pants.

“Two years ago. I shot him in the chest and thought he was dead until one of his men beat me up in a back alley telling me ‘The Ruler sent his regards’.” He scoffed, obviously still holding a grudge against the man and the situation. Clint was not the kind of guy to be hurt easily. Phil leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hand over his face.

“Was he an asshole of a Dom? Or did he at least treat you good?” Phil questioned, raising his head from his hands to look at him. The piercing gaze of pure rage had Clint pinned to his seat.

“He waited until I trusted him to become an asshole. It took me three years to escape him. Besides, what would you know about BDSM? Or being a good Dom?” Clint knew he sounded defensive and arrogant, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I’ve been a Dom for nearly two decades, Clint and playing at public clubs for the past five. But that’s not important. What is important is your safety.” Phil tried to steer the direction towards what they were discussing. “Does he know where you are?”

“Not that I know of. I do my best to stay under the radar and I assume S.H.I.E.L.D. is the same way, so I should be safe.” Clint shrugged. “Any other questions?”

“Any playmate that will be here regularly?” Phil asked. If so, he needed to do a background check, but instead Clint sadly shook his head.

“I haven’t played with anyone in over a year and even then, it’s only quick scenes. Not enough for me to drop. I can only drop when I feel safe, so….” Clint trailed off with a shrug. 

“Holy fuck, Clint. It’s not safe to go that long without a Dom to take care of you.” Phil jumped up from his seat, starting to pace.

“Well, it wasn’t like I exactly had time to get comfortable with a person before they had me on my knees.” Clint hissed, curling up in the recliner he was in. “I know that it wasn’t the smartest thing I could do, but what else was I supposed to do?”

“Let me be your Dom.” It slipped out of Phil’s mouth before he was able to truly think it through. His mouth shut with a click as he thought it over for a minute. “Think about it. I haven’t been with anyone except occasionally when I go to a dungeon. It doesn’t have to be sexual if you don’t want it to be. It can be a friend with benefits kind of thing. I mean, I make you feel safe, right?” Phil realized that he was blabbering at this point and needed to rein himself in. Truly, he hoped that maybe if he could show Clint how good of a Dom he was, Clint may be willing to be his sub- completely and fully.

“I, I, uh…” Barton’s train of thought crashed into a wall at his handler’s words. “I mean, yes, you make me feel safe and I’m obviously attracted to you, but would that be wise with our work?”

“Is anything wise with our work?” Came Phil’s soft response, his blue eyes searching Clint’s. “It’s up to you. We’d have to discuss limits, contracts, and safe words, but it’s up to you. It’s there if you want it.” When it looked like Clint was about to give an answer, he held up his hand, shaking his head. “No. You can tell me tomorrow. You need time to think on it. It isn’t smart to make these kinds of decisions on a spur of the moment kind of thing.” At Clint’s nod, he lowered his hand and smiled softly. “Any other questions?”

“No, sir.” Clint’s lips quirked up gently, teasing the elder man like always with that ‘sir’. 

“Good.” Phil nodded and retreated to his bedroom. And if he jerked off to calloused hands, teasing brown eyes, and a smirk, well, no one else needed to know that.

**Author's Note:**

> MORE TO COME SOON!!!


End file.
